Old News
by Madj
Summary: AU. With a huge news story brewing, newspaper reporter Emma Swan may finally have a way to get rid of her nemesis, rockstar TV reporter Killian Jones. You know, if that's what she really wants. Captain Swan, naturally.
1. Chapter 1

**Note:** Honestly, no idea where this came from. There is definitely more to the story, and I might write more eventually.

* * *

The packed conference room buzzed with anticipation, and Emma Swan rode the wave. She could feel it in her bones; this was a huge story, probably the biggest she'd covered so far. Among the usual scattering of regional reporters she spotted a number of bigger-market colleagues, drawn to Storybrooke by the intriguing possibility of a juicy story.

Emma took another hit of coffee and exchanged a glance with her best friend and fellow reporter. Mary Margaret Blanchard was flushed with excitement, shooting her a quick smile and tapping her pen on her reporter's notebook.

Emma's phone chimed, and she rolled her eyes at yet another text from her editor with suggestions of what to ask at the press conference. She'd been a police reporter for three years now, and even though this was shaping up to be the biggest story of her career, she hardly needed Gold picking out her questions.

Another glance told her that Mary Margaret was making goo-goo eyes at her boyfriend David, their photographer, who stood near the podium at the front of the room, waiting for Mayor King to make an appearance.

It certainly wasn't every day that the mayor's son was a suspect in his fiancee's murder.

Her phone chimed again, and she groaned. "Seriously, why isn't Gold sending you suggestions about what to ask?"

Mary Margaret shrugged. "Maybe because I've never been banned from a courtroom by a judge or had the chief of police threaten to take out a restraining order on me?"

"Those were total overreactions," Emma said defensively. "All I wanted was the truth."

"Mmmhmm," Mary Margaret said, but even without looking Emma could tell she'd lost her to David's baby blues again. The two of them were perfect for each other and still in the honeymoon phase of their relationship. It was equal parts adorable and nauseating to witness.

"Perhaps you're just too much woman for them to handle, Swan."

_Oh, of course._

Emma gritted her teeth as one of her least favorite people on earth dropped into the seat next to her. Killian Jones, a rising star in the world of TV news, was destined for greater things than the Storybrooke market. Emma wished the walking reminder of her past mistakes would just move on already and get the hell away from her.

His striking good looks and unconventional style were getting attention all over. He rarely wore anything but jeans on air, had the perfect amount of scruff and almost-constant sex hair. The British transplant was the only reporter she knew with actual groupies; she had no doubt a gaggle of girls was waiting outside city hall to fangirl all over him as soon as he left.

The worst of it was, the guy wasn't just another pretty face; he was a damn good reporter with great instincts.

Not that Emma would _ever_ admit it.

"Oh look, Mary Margaret," she said in an overly sweet tone. "WSTB's Ken doll is here. If you couldn't tell by the overwhelming hairspray fumes and suffocating stench of Axe Body Spray."

"Cute, Swan, but we both know you love me."

Her stomach twisted at his low voice, which hinted at some secret shared between them. Fortunately, she was used to covering up her reactions to him by now.

"I'm sorry, Jones, but this area is for real journalists. You're going to have to go sit with the other empty-headed pretty boys over there."

He leaned in closer, close enough to make her grind her teeth again. The truth was, the man smelled heavenly, damn him. "So you _do_ admit I'm attractive, then?"

She turned to face him, jerking back slightly to avoid bumping noses. "First of all, personal space," she said, pushing him away. "Second of all, did you skip over the 'empty-headed' part?"

"My journalism degree's just as good as yours," he said. "We were even in some of the same classes, I'm sure you'll remember."

She avoided his eyes, turning to stare hard at the mayor's podium instead. Of course she remembered sharing classes with Killian Jones. And drinks. And a lot of laughs. Not to mention one night of deep, wet kisses and breathless, passionate, knee-weakening sex. As much as she tried to block it out, she could still remember the feel of his skin on hers, the sound of his voice whispering how amazing she was. She might have even had a few feelings for him, all of which evaporated the instant the girlfriend he'd neglected to mention showed up the next morning.

"Well, too bad nobody else at your station learned anything in j-school," she said. "Otherwise, your anchors wouldn't be reading news from our website like it was something you guys wrote."

She waved her notebook in front of his face. "Don't think you can just read my stories in front of the camera and take credit for my work."

"I do all my own work, sweetheart, and it'll be a damned sight better than whatever your outdated rag publishes," he said testily, and she smiled. Obviously a sore subject.

Swan - 1, Jones - 0.

"Well, I guess we'll see who gets the biggest scoop, Jones."

"Shall we make a wager, love?"

She froze, meeting his eyes again. "What terms?"

"If I get the bigger story out of this, you buy me dinner. If you best me, I'll buy you dinner."

She shot a look at Mary Margaret, who was watching with interest. "Excuse me if I'm getting this wrong," she said. "But it seems like whether I win or lose, I'd still have to go to dinner with you."

His smile was wolfish. "You're missing the point, darling. Either way, we both win."

At her look, he sighed. "Very well, Swan. If I win, you buy me dinner at the establishment of my choice. If you win, I'll never ask you out again."

"Well, _now_ we're talking." This was one bet she knew she'd win. She had a source in the mayor's office who owed her big. "One other small detail, though. Who decides the winner?"

"I'll give you an edge, love, because you'll need it. I have a source that can't be beat. Out of the kindness of my heart, I'll allow your BFF to choose the winner." He nodded at Mary Margaret.

"Whoa," Mary Margaret said. "Don't drag me into this. Besides, I'm reporting on this story, too. What if I scoop the both of you?"

"Fair point. If you win, Swan and I will both buy you dinner." He smirked at her. "We'll make it a threesome. I hope Dave won't be too jealous."

Emma rolled her eyes, and Mary Margaret groaned.

"Ladies? Swan? Come on, M&M, don't let me down."

"Fine," Mary Margaret said with a sigh. "I'll be your judge."

"You're on, then," Emma said, shooting a cocky grin his way. She had this in the bag. "May the best _woman_ win, Ron Burgundy."


	2. Chapter 2

Neal Cassidy was a dead man.

He might not know it; he might be walking, talking and lying through his teeth like usual, but his time was near.

Just as soon as Emma figured out how to get away with murder.

She hid in the corner, hands in painfully tight fists, watching as her asshole of an ex-boyfriend leaned across the table in The Rabbit Hole and spilled his guts (and _her_ exclusive scoop) to The Enemy, one Killian Jones.

She wasn't sure which of them to punch first.

Before she realized she was doing it, she marched up to the table, barely resisting the urge to dump Neal's beer in his lap.

"You rat bastard," she hissed, not sure which one she was talking to, since it applied to both.

"Ems," Neal said, grinning like an idiot. "Babe, I can explain."

"I take it you two know each other," Jones drawled. His voice sounded bored, but she didn't miss the way he watched them with interest.

"Like you didn't know you were stealing my source," she snapped. Dismissing him, she turned to the other jerk at the table. "And _you_, don't ever call me 'Babe.' You promised me a story, and we both know you owe me."

Neal sighed. "I know what I said, Ems, but you don't understand. This is huge. Like Woodward and Bernstein huge."

"Who wrote for a newspaper," she hissed. "They were actual reporters, not TV figureheads."

"Hey!" Jones objected. "I _am_ an actual reporter, and I'm damned tired of you disparaging my profession."

"I guess since I made it clear you couldn't steal my story, you decided to swipe my source instead?" She knew she was being a bitch. She knew it, but she couldn't stop herself.

"Love, it's a free country. I hardly think he belongs to you."

"Ha!" she said. "I own his ass, unless he wants his boss to find out what I know."

"Emma —" Neal began, huffing and sitting back when he realized neither of them really cared about him at the moment.

"Extortion, Swan? That's bad form."

"Actually," she said, "it's blackmail, and it's also none of your business."

She turned her glare back on Neal. "So what's the deal? Are you going back on your word?" Not that that should surprise her at all. Honesty had never been Neal's strong suit.

"Emma, this story is dangerous, more dangerous than I thought," he said. "I'm just looking out for you."

"Seriously?" She imagined her face must be a lovely tomato shade, because she felt like she was about to have a stroke. "You're stiffing me on this story for my own good? Gonna protect the little woman from the scary story? And, what? Jones is the big strong man who can handle it?"

"Swan, you say the nicest things."

"Look, Emma, I know I said I'd help, but this is big," Neal said. "I couldn't stand it if you got hurt."

She laughed. "Well, it's a little late for that. Enjoy explaining that whole 'watch misunderstanding' to the mayor. I'm sure he'll love knowing that his special assistant has some very special — and illegal — skills. Hell, you might even get a raise!"

She flipped him off, very maturely stuck her tongue out at Jones and stormed off. Once outside, she paced in front of the bar cussing under her breath.

_Way to make a fool of yourself, Emma._ _Very professional._

"OK, think," she muttered. If Neal was going to screw her over, maybe there was another way to get the information she needed. There was no way she was going to let the two of them win.

The door opened, and the gruesome twosome came out, talking in low voices. They shook hands and parted ways, Neal heading across the street and Killian sauntering over to lean on the building next to her.

"Swan, look," he began.

"Save it, Jones. I could not be less interested in what you have to say." She watched Neal walking toward his car, imagining a target on his head.

"Lass, I only thought —"

She didn't hear the rest of what he said as she watched the headlights zooming closer to Neal.

She thought she yelled his name, but the whole thing happened so quickly that she couldn't be sure. The dark-colored SUV came up fast and sped off after hitting Neal, leaving him crumpled on the side of the street.

* * *

Emma and Killian sat alone in Granny's Diner poking at their food and very much not talking.

Emma took sip of her hot chocolate, trying not to picture Neal's bloody form being wheeled into an ambulance. By the time they'd given statements to the police and waited for news at the hospital, it was 1 a.m., and they'd headed to the diner on an unspoken agreement.

Neal was going to live, but he had yet to regain consciousness. Assuming that he woke up, he would have a long road to recovery ahead of him.

After watching Killian push eggs around his plate, she finally broke the silence. "They tried to kill him."

"Swan, it was an accident," he said, though it sounded more like a question to her.

"He knows something big about the murder of the mayor's future daughter-in-law. He meets up with WSTB's star reporter, and then suddenly he gets nailed by an SUV in a hit-and-run. That's an accident?"

He sighed. "Fair enough. Perhaps it wasn't an accident. Cassidy said he thought James was guilty of killing the fiancee, but there was something else going on he thought would be a big scandal. He said he had some proof he was willing to hand over, if …"

"If?" She started to take a bite, then realized what he was saying. "If you paid him? That bastard was looking for cash! You were going to pay him?"

He shrugged. "I was going to talk to Regina about it. Personally, I would pass, but she is my producer, so I thought I should discuss it with her first."

Of course. If Neal saw the chance to make a money off the information he held, that could explain why he changed his mind about being her source.

"It must be something implicating the mayor in some way," she said.

"How do you figure that?"

"He'd get fired if I told the mayor's office what I know about him. So if he was willing to risk his cushy job for some quick cash, something tells me he wasn't expecting to even have that job for long."

Killian nodded. "It's possible. What's the story with you two, anyway?"

She met his eyes for a moment before looking away. "We dated, freshman year of college," she said. "Things happened, and I realized I couldn't trust him. I never expected him to end up working for the mayor. I have no idea how it happened, but he's a born con man, so I guess I'm not that surprised. He's a natural at politics."

"What 'things' happened, Emma? What did he do to you?"

She realized she'd been leaning in toward him and jerked herself back. How the hell did she forget who she was talking to?

"File that under none of your business, Jones," she said, sliding out of the booth. "Thanks for the food, but I don't have much of an appetite."

He stood up with her and caught her arm before she could slip past him. "Wait. Swan, wait a moment. I think we should work on this story together."

She huffed out a laugh. "Is that a joke?"

"No, listen, if you're right about what happened to Cassidy, neither of us should do this alone. There's safety in numbers."

She shook her head, yanking her arm away. "I don't know if I think it's arrogant or pathetic that you actually believe that I'd be dumb enough to trust you ever again."

* * *

She didn't sleep much, since every time she closed her eyes she saw a vision of Neal being turned into roadkill.

The guy was a dick, but once upon a time she'd actually cared a lot about him, and watching him nearly die on repeat in her head was not her idea of a good time.

When she wasn't replaying that horrible moment, she was thinking about Killian: the way he invaded her personal space, the feel of his fingers on her arm, the sincerity in his eyes when he suggested they'd be safer working together.

She wanted him to be telling the truth, and wasn't that when her internal lie detector always malfunctioned? She'd let her feelings for Jones run away with her common sense once before, and she wasn't going to make that mistake again.

From the start, the next day seemed cursed.

Her phone went dead, since she forgot to charge it; her alarm didn't go off and she was running late. For some reason her landlord was unable to explain, she had no hot water and had to take a frigid shower. Worst of all, she had gotten so caught up in work that she'd neglected to buy groceries and was completely out of coffee.

And that was the good part of her day.

She knew she was screwed when she spotted Regina Mills, impeccably dressed and without a hair out of place, pacing around Gold's office. Regina was the lead producer at WSTB; her mother Cora Mills was the station's general manager, and rumor had it that Regina was constantly trying to prove herself to her mom.

A moment later Emma spotted the perfect mess that was Jones' hair sticking up behind a chair in the same office. As pissed as she was, she had to swallow a laugh when she realized he had his feet up on Gold's desk. Her editor kept stealing annoyed glances his way in between apparent arguments with Regina.

"What happened last night?" Mary Margaret rolled her chair over to Emma's desk. "David said he heard Neal Cassidy was in a hit-and-run and you were a witness?"

Emma groaned and dropped her head into her arms. She gave Mary Margaret the highlights, speculating that Gold was getting them from Regina at the same time.

It was only a matter of time, of course, before she was called into his office.

"Miss Swan," Gold said when she joined them. "I've just been informed of the events of last night." Unspoken was his disappointment that she hadn't told him herself. She knew she'd hear about it at length later on. "In light of these events, we believe it's best — for the moment — for you to team up with Mr. Jones. See what you can dig up and get back to myself and Ms. Mills."

She shot a poisonous glare Jones' way before nodding to her boss and returning to her desk. Ignoring Killian as he followed her and leaned on her desk, she crammed a notebook and her half-charged phone into her purse and headed for the exit. He followed again, way too close.

"So, partner," he began.

"What is your game, Jones?" She pulled him into an empty cubicle. "Why are you doing this?"

"This?"

"Insisting we work together," she hissed. "Seriously. You're a … perfectly adequate reporter with more resources than I have. You don't need me for this story."

"Perfectly adequate? Swan, you just made my heart skip a beat." When she just rolled her eyes at him, he sighed. "I meant what I said, it's too dangerous to hit this angle of the story alone. You know Cassidy, and you're also a perfectly adequate reporter. I think we should be adequate together."

She shook her head and turned to go.

"So, where are we going?"

"I don't know where you're going," she said, looking around to make sure nobody was near. "But I'm going to break into Neal's apartment and see if I can find this mystery evidence. On second thought, you'd better come with me. If we get caught, you can distract them with your pretty face while I make a run for it."

She heard him chuckle behind her as she headed for the door. "All these compliments, Swan! Be careful, or I'm going to start thinking you're in love with me."

She smiled brightly at his yelp as she let the door slam in his face.


	3. Chapter 3

As it turned out, breaking into Neal's apartment wasn't necessary.

As soon as she spotted the young man working at the apartment building's front desk, Emma knew she had a perfect way in. Returning to her car, she dug an old Boston Red Sox baseball cap out of her trunk and handed it to Killian.

"What's this?"

"A baseball cap," she said slowly, as though talking to a child. "You wear it on your head."

At his look, she rolled her eyes. "The kid working at the desk might recognize you, dumbass. I know you don't want to mess up the sex hair, but sacrifices must be made for the sake of news."

His eyebrows went sky high, and he grinned. "Sex hair?"

"You know …" She pantomimed messing up her hair, then grabbed the cap from him and smacked him on the arm with it before cramming it on his head. "Never mind. Just let me do the talking and don't let him get a good look at your face."

She took a deep breath at the door and sent a mental apology Neal's way before pushing it open. Neal, of all people, should appreciate a good con; still, he might not be so thrilled under the circumstances.

It was surprisingly easy to work up a few tears as she walked up to the desk. "Hi there, do you remember me?" she asked softly.

"Sure!" The kid — Brian, she remembered — brightened. "I never forget a fellow Browncoat. Hey, are you okay?"

She swallowed a smile. He _did_ remember her. After Neal had refused to answer her calls a few weeks ago about another story, she'd practically camped out in the lobby for an hour talking "Firefly" with Brian until she caught Neal on his way out.

"I - I've been better. You know I'm a … friend of Neal Cassidy?" She let the pause linger, letting Brian assume she meant much more than friend. Beside her, Jones leaned against the counter with his face turned away from them.

"Yeah, I heard he's in the hospital. That's a bum deal, man."

"Mmm, yeah. The thing is, I thought if I could bring a few things from his apartment — like photos and stuff — it might cheer him up and help him get better faster. But I don't have a key …"

She could tell he wasn't going for it, so she brought out the big guns, letting her tears fall. "I just want him t-to be o-okay," she cried.

Brian looked panicked, glancing at Killian, who gave every appearance of not giving a damn. "Look, hey, it's okay," he said. "I'm not really supposed to do this, but if you promise to be in and out in fifteen minutes …" He dug out a copy of the key and handed it over. "I'm sure your friend is going to be fine."

She gave him a watery smile and took the key, pushing Killian toward the elevator.

As soon as the doors shut behind them, Jones started clapping. "Bravo, love. Grade-A performance."

"Bite me," she said, swiping the tears off her face, then gasping as he stepped forward into her space.

"Ahh, Swan," he said softly, leaning close enough that his lips grazed her ear.

She told herself to move, shove him, something, but her body wasn't obeying any commands.

"Careful what you wish for," he said, nipping at her earlobe before pulling away and smirking at her.

The smirk broke the spell, and she smacked him on the chest. She was trying to come up with some kind of cutting response when the door slid open. Glaring at him, she pushed him out of the way and headed for Neal's door.

* * *

The place was a pit.

Emma groaned. Nearly every available surface was littered with pizza and Chinese boxes, plates, beer bottles, DVD cases and stacks of paper. A laundry basket overflowing with rumpled clothes sat on the couch and what looked like a fort built out of Coke cans took up the entire coffee table. She remembered that Neal was a bit of a slob, but that was in college. Obviously he hadn't grown out of it since.

"How the hell are we supposed to find anything in here in fifteen minutes?"

Jones shrugged. "I'll search through some of this refuse; you see if you can find his computer."

She sighed and went down the hall, peeking into doors until she found an office. This room was less of a disaster area, consisting mostly of a desk and a bookshelf. The bookshelf was overloaded, with books stacked in piles all around it.

She dropped into the desk chair and woke the laptop up, quickly scanning through the hard drive for anything that looked suspicious. She mentally kicked herself for not bringing something to back it up onto, but she'd been in a hurry to do _something_ and hadn't thought it through.

Nothing stood out to her on the hard drive, so she checked his browser history. Nothing of interest. What looked like a few porn sites — charming — and a bunch of sites about Florida travel.

Sighing, she went back to the hard drive, opening folders randomly. Honestly, she didn't think he would keep anything on the computer itself.

_If it were me, I'd keep the info on a flash drive._

She stood out of the chair slightly, looking over the desk. Nothing. She checked the drawers, but other than an impressively long paper clip chain and about a thousand pens, there was nothing there either. She sat back and spun the chair around, scanning the room.

"Anything?" Killian leaned on the doorjamb.

"I don't think so," she said. "I was just wondering …"

Her eyes were caught by a red LEGO block sitting on the bookshelf. Who had just _one_ LEGO?

"Our fifteen minutes are up. I hate to say it, but we should get out of here before …" Killian trailed off as she stood and picked up the block. "What is that?"

She pulled the end of the block off to reveal a flash drive. "Maybe nothing, but maybe our evidence?"

She shrugged and headed for the door, snagging a couple of framed photos from a shelf in the living room on the way out. Since she was here anyway, she might as well follow through on the idea of taking them to Neal when he woke up.

"We need to see what's on here," she said as they got in the elevator.

"Your place or mine?" Jones purred.

His tone made her think of very different things than work, but she pushed those kind of thoughts to the side. "The way today has been going for me, I probably have no power at home," she said lightly. "We'd better go to yours."

* * *

"Wow," she said, gawking at his neat-as-a-pin living room, decorated in friendly shades of blue and brown. "Now I'm really glad we didn't go to my place. I mean, it's not as bad as Neal's, but … I had no idea you were neat freak."

He laughed. "Eh, my Dad was military, and we had to keep everything ship-shape at all times. My brother always rebelled against it, but I didn't mind so much. It stuck with me, I guess."

"Hmmm." She gently sat her bag on an end table. "And here I thought you were the bad boy of the Jones family."

"Well, it's all relative, isn't it?" He stepped closer, invading her space again, but she refused to turn to look at him. Instead, she pulled Neal's flash drive out of her pocket.

"So … computer?"

He waited a beat, then cleared his throat. "Right." He waved a hand toward the couch. "Sit, I'll be right back."

She sank into the leather sofa and nodded in approval. It was just the right softness to be comfortable yet supportive.

Killian came back carrying a MacBook and sat next to her. "All right, then, let's see it."

She plugged the flash drive in and scooted a little closer to him as a window opened on the screen. There were only two folders: "CIP" and "king."

She opened the CIP folder; it contained a series of PDFs. Opening one at random, she frowned. "Community Investment Program?"

Jones shook his head as she opened a couple other files. "I've no idea. Looks like financial documents."

"We could have our business reporter look at them," she offered. "Belle might be able to tell us what all these numbers mean. Math's not my strong subject."

"Me neither. Could be important, though. What's in the other folder?"

There was a single video file, also labeled "king."

They exchanged a glance, then Emma shrugged and double-clicked on the file.

It took a moment before she realized what she was seeing. She clapped a hand over her eyes. "Oh God. Oh. My. God. Is that —"

"The mayor boning his son's fiancee? Yeah, that's what it looks like."

She still had her eyes covered, but that didn't stop her from hearing the sounds. _Oh dear lord, the sounds._ "Ugh. I just can't … why?"

She snuck a peek and got a revolting view of George King's naked ass. She winced and closed the laptop. "I'm sorry, I just need a sec."

Jones was looking both dazed and horrified. "That's the worst porno of all time," he said.

Their eyes caught, and then they were both laughing, falling back on the couch. As soon as she started getting it under control, Killian made a pervy comment about "public service" that set her off again.

Finally, they wound down, and she sighed. "I could have lived my whole life without seeing that," she said.

"Agreed. But what a scoop it's going to make," he said, grinning at her.

She found herself grinning back before she remembered yet again why she hated Killian Jones. Even if — _especially_ if — it felt great to be basically snuggled up against his warm, solid body on the couch, that didn't mean he could be trusted.

_Red Alert, Swan!_

Frowning, she pushed herself up and back onto the edge of the couch. "I hate to say it, but we'd better finish watching this thing."

She started to raise the lid, scowling when he stopped her, covering her hand with his.

"What the hell did I ever do to you, Swan?" his voice was even, but she could hear the anger underneath it.

She snatched her hand away and stood up. "Are you even serious right now?"

"Deadly serious. I'd really like to know, since I thought we were … well, friends at the very least. I thought things were actually pretty great with us, and then we spend the night together and you never speak to me again?"

She started pacing, scowling when he got up and stood in her way.

"OK, fine. The one thing I hate more than anything in the world is a cheater. Every foster home I was ever in that split up was because one of the parents cheated. Neal cheated on me; that's the main reason we broke up, even though God knows we had a lot of other problems," Against her will, her voice raised. "And you made _me_ into a cheater, that's what you did to me!"

"What the bloody hell are you talking about?" he yelled back.

She sighed. "The next morning, after we … you know. I was late to class, so I ran out without waking you up, and I met her." At his blank look, she rolled her eyes. "Your girlfriend. Who you must have forgotten to mention while you were getting in my pants."

"Wait, what? I didn't have a girlfriend, Swan. Do you really think I'd have been flirting with you all semester if I had a girlfriend?"

She froze. "You're lying. I met her, Killian. Pretty girl, dark hair, named Milah? She told me you'd been together since high school? Is this ringing any bells for you? She _cried_ when she saw me, Jones. She was crying because I slept with her boyfriend!"

"Milah?" he huffed out a laugh. "That bitch."

It was his turn to pace, and she could tell he was debating what to say before he stopped and turned to face her. "For the record, Milah and I dated all through high school. I was crazy about her; I always assumed we'd get married eventually. Unfortunately, she didn't feel the same. Milah … she was always looking for _something_, some big adventure or perfect soul mate or I don't know what, but she could never seem to find it."

She had a sick feeling that she'd made a huge mistake, and she sank back down on the couch without a word, waiting for him to continue.

"Midway through our freshman year of college, she broke up with me. She'd met a 'great guy' who she said really understood her. As if I didn't. It was less than a month before she came running back to me, all full of apologies and tears; I forgave her, of course. I loved her. But that was just the first time. Eventually we fell into a pattern. She'd leave, she'd come back, I would forgive her. But every time, I cared a little bit less. And then I met you. And when she showed up asking me to take her back, I said no. And she wasn't pleased."

"She was probably waiting for me," Emma said softly. "That day, she ran into me on purpose. And I believed her."

She remembered how terrible she'd felt, how guilty, seeing the girl crying because of something she did. She knew exactly how it felt to be cheated on, and she'd burned with anger and humiliation that she'd been "the other woman" this time.

He laughed shortly again, and she winced at how bitter it sounded. "For a long time I thought … I wondered if you felt like I pushed you into something you weren't ready for."

"Killian, no," she said quickly. "I mean, I seem to recall that I was the one who jumped you, anyway."

They'd been eating Chinese, drinking beer and very much not studying for their Journalism Law exam; she'd looked over and seen him licking his lips and she'd just snapped, climbing into his lap and kissing him hard. God, she'd wanted him for so long, and she'd just been unable to fight it anymore.

"I remember." Their eyes met, and she knew he was replaying it in his head, too. "I can't believe you thought I would do that to you."

She shrugged and forced her gaze away. "People are pretty shitty," she said. "I suppose part of me was kind of expecting something like that anyway."

"How did you get to be such a pessimist?"

"I prefer the term 'realist,'" she said. "And I got that way through basically every life experience since my parents dumped me off on the side of the road as a baby."

"Swan …"

"Anyway, we need to watch the rest of this godawful thing; we have deadlines, after all."

He hesitated, then moved to sit next to her again. "Brace yourself," he said. "It's not going to be pretty."

They exchanged a small grin, and she tried to ignore the ache in the pit of her stomach. She'd ruined everything because she was just so quick to believe the worst of people. It wasn't the first time she'd done something like that, but it was probably the most painful. Heaving a sigh, she lifted the lid of the laptop again and clicked Play.

* * *

Emma made her television debut that evening, sweating and fidgeting under hot lights and the camera's glare at Regina's insistence. She and Killian shared a byline on the story topping the Mirror's website about the sex tape and evidence of possible misuse of public funds through the so-called Community Investment Program. All the evidence was turned over to the police (after it was copied, of course), and Killian's boss wanted both of them answering questions from evening anchor Victor Whale.

The interview was a blur; she much preferred posing the questions to answering them. But Regina seemed pleased, so she figured she must have at least seemed coherent.

The moment she was free, she escaped outside, leaning on her car and breathing in the night air. She wasn't surprised at all when he followed her, mirroring her pose on the news van parked beside her car.

"I don't mean to upset you, Emma, but I think we make quite the team."

She smiled and nodded. "I would have to agree. Look, Jones … Killian, I'm sorry for not trusting you back then. It's … really, it's just what I do."

He nodded seriously. "And I'm sorry for not making you tell me what was wrong. I was waiting for you to come back on your own. That's what I do."

After an awkward silence, she was about to say goodbye when he spoke again. "So … what now?"

Now? Now, they needed to rest up for another big news day, with the mayor taken in for questioning and other financial experts combing through the pages of city documents. They needed to find out whether or not their bosses still wanted them to work together on this or if they were back to being rivals.

But she knew that wasn't what he was asking.

"Well, we both kind of won the bet," she said, taking a deep breath. "So I guess … you should pay for my dinner, and I should pay for yours."

A grin slowly bloomed across his face, and he stood and stepped closer. "Excellent compromise, Swan. Though perhaps we should just eat at my place, since it's highly unlikely you'll make it through a whole meal without wanting to get your hands on —"

She shut him up in the best way possible, grabbing him by the collar and pulling his mouth to hers. She moaned as he almost immediately kissed her back, pressing her into the side of the car as she twined her arms around his neck.

Eventually he pulled away, brushing kisses against the corner of her mouth and along her jaw. "So, Chinese, my place?"

"I don't know," she said, holding back a grin. "Last time we had Chinese at your place I was completely unable to control my hormones."

"That's what I'm counting on, love."

She swallowed hard as his lips moved to her neck. "I guess I should just ask to make sure this time. Do you have a girlfriend?"

He pulled away, then leaned his forehead on hers. "Not at the moment, but you've got the scoop on that, love."

She laughed, freeing one hand from around his neck to fish her keys out of her pocket. "Good answer, Jones."


End file.
